Page 14 of Critical Mass
Hudson didn’t recognize the language, but he didn’t need to.
The tone said everything: tactical team, mission-focused, eliminate the targets.
“Get in the boat,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened. “Hudson, we can’t just steal?—”
“Get. In. The. Boat.” Each word was clipped, final. “Or stay here and find out what those men want with you.”
That got her moving. She climbed over the gunwale with surprising agility, and Hudson followed, immediately moving to the console.
There were no keys in the ignition—of course not.
That would be too easy.
“What are you doing?” Natalie whispered from where she’d crouched in the stern.
“Hot-wiring it.” Hudson pulled the panel away from the ignition, exposing the wiring underneath.
Thank goodness for older boats. Newer ones had sophisticated security systems he couldn’t bypass without tools.
His fingers found the starter wire and the battery wire, and he stripped the insulation with his pocketknife.
The voices were getting closer.
Maybe thirty seconds before they reached the dock.
“Hudson—” Natalie whispered.
“Quiet.” He touched the wires together, and the engine coughed but didn’t catch.
Come on . . .
He tried again, holding his breath.
The engine turned over, rumbling to life with a sound that seemed deafening in the quiet night.
So much for stealth.
A shout came from the dock.
Hudson released the ropes keeping the boat at the slip and threw the throttle forward just as the first gunshot splintered the air.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
The crackof the gunshot was impossibly loud.
A split second later, something exploded near Natalie’s head.
Fiberglass sprayed the air.
Splinters flew.
She didn’t think, didn’t decide—she just dropped, hitting the deck hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs.
This wasn’t happening.
